I found three other possibles for a place to live, on the internet. One was an agency (sort of) as I phoned it myself.
FfI came round just after 6. She phoned the other two. One was an agency but would take no commission and the other was an agency. Also we phoned the flat-in-the-building-we-both-like but there was no answer as it must be an office or something.
I hate supermarket shopping. It almost always seems to put me in a bad mood, even thinking about it.
V is cooking dinner tonight so I thought I would go and get a bottle of wine. Oh, yes, and some milk.
I’m an internet person. Italy is not, really, an internet country. I like a lot of what Italy has to offer but there are some things that Italy does not do so well, such as getting things done without a ton of paperwork; roast beef; lamb; sticking to the rules; not sticking to the rules; personal space; etc.
FfI is being so kind and helping me a lot.
She arrives at my home and we look on the internet. We make calls. We call the nice flat and the flat-on-the-perfect-street and some others.
We go for something to eat. We visit flats. We visit the nice flat. There is someone else interested. What seemed quite a big flat is suddenly quite a small flat but I don’t want to lose out and my friend really likes it (she hasn’t seen the flat-on-the-perfect-street yet).
We (I) agree to take it. I have to meet the woman on Monday night to start the contract thing. I suddenly don’t want it at all. It’s too small; it’s too far out of town; it has no character; I can’t picture my furniture in it. In fact, it’s only really redeeming feature is that it is available now (almost) and every fitting is new. But, I question, what if the flat-on-the-perfect-street (which is a bit smaller) is actually not good when I next see it? FfI and I are going on Monday night, just before I meet this woman.
After: FfI thinks it was much smaller and devoid of character as well.
We go to see another flat. In an area I don’t really know so well. The pictures make it look like some sort of penthouse. And, it has a terrace!
It’s tiny and wood everywhere. Although it has large windows the wood everywhere makes it seem dark. It’s awkwardly laid out. The terrace is huge but, obviously not used by the current tenant. There is no oven but he’s going to get a combi-oven. Hmm. I don’t really like him.
The clincher is the dogs. In answer to the question there is no doubt. No. My mind has already removed it from my list, in spite of the terrace, but now it is erased completely.
We decide to go for a pizza but end up at the Mexican. We like the Mexican. The food is superb. It’s Piedra del Sol, near Repubblica. They do great tequila cocktails. Without V being there and wanting more than 1 (or 4 or 5) the meal turned out to be so reasonably priced! We did share a main course as, normally, it is far too much for one and most of it taken home in a doggy bag. It was just right.
Today we went to a very nice flat just off Corso Buenos Aries. Like the one I had agreed to take but much more central and for the same price, more or less. Then to another near to the one I had agreed to take. It’s a definite. It’s too far out. I will call her tomorrow to say I’ve changed my mind.
So now CBA has taken over as the one that is up against the flat-on-the-perfect-street. Tomorrow night we go to see (together) flat-on-the-perfect-street and then another which is on three floors. Personally, I think it’s either CBA or flat-on-the-perfect-street.
Decisions have to be made.
Then, as we’re walking back from the other too-far-out-flat to the American Donut Café (we planned brunch) we pass a block that we both said that we would like to live in, very close to where I live now. There was one for rent. More or less the size of the one I live in now but one less bedroom. So FfI suggested living together >I’m not sure that would be perfect. I think she would get fed up with the dust from the dogs pretty damn quick. Plus she has some habits that, as a lover, I could probably cope with – as just a friend would probably have me killing her within a couple of weeks (or, even, days), even if I do love her to bits!
If it was the right price, it would be nice but…..
We shall see. Enough of looking at flats. I just want to be in somewhere and start getting back to normal even if it is the new normal (whatever that may be).
There is a street, near where we live now, that I have always thought is the nicest street in Milan (apart from the obvious Via della Spiga, etc.).
The street is fairly quiet, not a main thoroughfare; it has some beautiful apartment buildings; it’s close to all the things I like (Sento – the Japanese restaurant; the Imperiale – the Chinese restaurant; K2 – the Tuscan restaurant – oh, they all seem to be restaurants!); it’s very walkable from the city centre; it’s close to the dog walks and the park.
It’s also very expensive. However, I found a flat there that would seem to be big enough (I would make it very cosy), it’s virtually empty (apart from the kitchen) and, having just gone to see it, it would seem perfect.
It would also seem OK for the dogs. It’s on the third floor (same as we are now) and has a lift, which is good, especially as Rufus will struggle with stairs shortly, I think.
It’s old – sort of 30s style and the rooms are big. I love it.
The only question I have is: is it the street (which I have always said I wanted to live on above all others) the thing that makes me like it so much or is it truly the perfect flat for me?
I will take FfI round to view it and maybe I’ll be swayed from it.
We’re deciding where to go for a pizza. We will be driving.
He said, ‘I know a great pizza place in a flower shop’.
I say, incredulously, ‘in a flower shop?’
‘Well,’ he responds, ‘it’s a very big flower shop’.
‘So, more like a garden centre?’ I ask.
Here in Milan, at the Santa Maria della Grazie church is one of Leonardo’s masterpieces. It has been restored and it is possible for you to go and see it, if you book far enough in advance or, if you are lucky on the day.
Pietro seemed concerned that I would be leaving Milan and, for that matter, Italy.
Today is the Saint’s Day for Saint Biagio. I learnt about this because, apparently, in order to protect yourself from problems with your throat, one should eat some panettone from Christmas.
I am far too old for this. Since Wednesday, out every night and not back until 1 or 2 in the morning, or, even later. What am I thinking of? As I normally get up at 5.45, I find that I cannot really sleep in past about 7 whatever time I arrive back home the night before.
Dinners with friends; dinners at friends; parties at friends; just out with friends. And, come about 11 I get so tired. I mention that I shall go home and I get the response of – “Really?” or “Stay a little longer”.
It has to stop but not for tonight or Tuesday night and, probably not Monday night either since I need to ask someone for help.
The idea of coming home after work and just sitting down with a glass of wine and watching a film is such a pleasurable thought, almost like paradise. Not that I don’t enjoy being out with friends, of course. It is impossible to say “no” even though I should. I don’t want to disappoint friends and I enjoy their company – it is fun. And life is too short to miss out on “life”. And friends are what makes life worth living, in my opinion. The joy of being in the company of like-minded people or people who are fun and talking or laughing is what is so good.
And now the boys are pressing to be taken out. They do not see the snow that is falling (enough of winter!) nor would Dino care. So, whilst they wait, they play or, rather, Dino winds Rufus up by walking round him with the occasional lick or nudge or, worse, trying to mount him. As they are now separated when we are not here and at night (because of the barking problem) it’s the ritual they go through each morning and evening. After Dino has brought out, one by one, his toys for me to throw or, again, to try and wind Rufus up.
Then, for a short while, one of them lies on his back whilst the other attacks at the throat and, if it’s Rufus doing the “attacking”, the way that he kneels down, his paws tucked underneath him, to stop Dino going for the feet – until one of them barks or yelps too loudly and they get shouted at.
The ritual of checking who’s boss, of course. I think it’s still Rufus but Dino gets stronger and bolder and more clever every day.
So now it is a shower and out for the long walk we always have at the weekend even if we are not able to have that during the week (depending upon time).
So, today, another first. Well, that’s not strictly true but it has been so long since the last time that it felt like a first. I think that last time was about 18 or 19 years ago.
And it was quite stressful. I never really liked doing it all those years ago. There was a short time when it was good but, overall, it seems invasive (even though it isn’t) and too personal. Strange, isn’t it? After all that’s only in my head and not reality.
Well, today I had to bite the bullet, which I did. I should have gone last night, really, but, as my regular readers will know, given the weather and because I was cold, I chose to leave it until this morning.
First I went to a place to check the Italian word I needed as I had seen their window display and knew the word was there. Then I went to one place but it was shut for a 3 hour lunch. So I went to the place at the back of our house. I had to wait as his wife told me he had gone to get something to eat but would be back in 5 to 10 minutes. So I waited.
He was good. And quick. And, I have to say, I am pleased with the result. He certainly seemed to take a pride in what he did.
But it was like stepping back in time. A real old-fashioned place like I remember from when I was a kid. The colours were from the 50s. Red and cream. The “instruments” were a mix of old-fashioned and modern. The mirrors were huge (although, when I took my glasses off the mirrors were a bit pointless). It took less than half an hour and left my pocket lighter by €15. Still, it means I am OK for next week now.
And, in the end, it wasn’t as bad as I thought. Mind you, it never is. I must admit that the haircut seems a little shorter than usual but at least I won’t have to go back for another 6 weeks or so.